My Father in Heaven
by Rose Greenwood
Summary: 17 years after the Phantom and Christine part, Christine dies, but leaves Erik with a daughter. What she chooses to do once she is reunited with her father will decide her fate.  Yeah, my summaries suck, sorry.


_Alright, so, I've had this idea since I listened to Love Never Dies__ and finally got off my butt and did it. I got the idea for Lucia's name from the lyrics to "The Phantom confronts Christine" "From out of ugliness, such light." I know, I'm a dork. Also, Lucia has used her mother's maiden name since she learned that Raoul isn't her father (spoiler! gasp!)_

* * *

Lucia Daae stood by her mother's coffin with her 1 year old brother Charles in her arms; they were both dressed in solemn black, Lucia's long dark blonde hair was pulled back in a black velvet ribbon and her mismatched eyes glistened with unshed tears. But for the color of her hair and eyes and the slight flaws in her face the 17 year old was the spitting image of her mother at the same age. She watched as the mourners filed passed the Vicomte, the man that she had known for years was not, in fact, her father. She accepted it, but still, she wished she could have someone there for her now that her mother was gone.

She looked down at little Charles in her arms; he was very obviously the Vicomte's son. She held no ill will toward him, on the contrary she felt as much a mother to him as Christine had been, she had been the one to put him to bed every night after the nurse had been sent home for the night and she who had helped him through teething when her mother had become too weak to manage more than the occasional conversation with Lucia and the Vicomte.

Lucia looked sadly at the woman in the coffin and saw, out of the corner of her eye, a black shadow dart into the crowd, she wrote it off to her lack of sleep and dark imagination. At least until Charles started to cry. She sighed and carried him into the next room where his basinet was set up. She lay him down and started to sing the lullaby her mother had taught her when she was young.

"_Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses ..._

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor  
Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender  
Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light -  
and listen to the music of the night ..."

* * *

Erik slipped into the funeral room unseen, he cast a glance as the odd-eyed girl by the coffin, and knew it must be Lucia. He sighed she had the slightest puckering in the otherwise smooth skin at the corner of her eyes and face and one eye was noticeably more green than the other, which was more blue-green.

He waited until the flow of mourners had ceased and slid up next to Raoul. "Hello Vicomte."

Raoul spun on him and his eyes went wide. "What do you want? Didn't you torment us enough earlier? Now you must flaunt yourself after Christine's death?"

Erik sighed, "You misunderstand me Vicomte. I have only come to collect what is mine, if she is still mine. I am speaking of course, of Lucia. I assume Christine told you?"

Raoul winced. He had hoped that it had been deathbed delirium that had made Christine say that, but if the Phantom knew…he realized that he had lost Lucia; though he was happy to still have Charles, his son.

Raoul looked up to see Lucia leaving with Charles. "Over there." He gestured to the far room. "She'll be putting Charles down for his nap."

Erik nodded. "Thank you Vicomte. I'll be leaving with her now. Tell people what you like." He strode away, his cape fluttering as Raoul sighed and sank into his chair.

Erik eased the door to the room open and heard Lucia singing, as she stopped for a breath he picked it up and fell in.

"_Close your eyes and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes,  
let your spirit start to soar!  
And you'll live  
as you've never lived before ..._

Softly, deftly,  
music shall surround you ...  
Feel it, hear it,  
closing in around you ...  
Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of the music of the night ..."

Her breath hitched in her throat. "Lucia."

"Who are you?" She spun, whispering, so as not to wake Charles. Erik smiled.

"Your mother was right, you did inherit much of my temperament."

"You're my mother's angel? The man she told me is my father?"

"Yes."

She scowled, the puckers becoming more pronounced. "Prove it."

From the inner pocket of his vest Erik produced a letter. "Never opened. In the last letter she sent you mother told me to give this to you. She said you were as hesitant to trust as I am." He reached across the distance between them to hand the envelope to her.

Lucia took it and opened it, feeling her mother's familiar stationary in her hands. She looked down at it and her eyes started to tear as she recognized her mother's handwriting.

_Lucia, Little Lotte,_

_If you are reading this then my weakness has finally overcome me and your father is standing before you, like as not looking somewhat sad._

_I know you will be sad to leave little Charles, as sad, perhaps, as I was to leave both of you, but you are to go with your father. He is legally your guardian now, you are free to do as you wish, freer than you have been in your life with Raoul._

_I know you hesitate to trust anyone you do not know, but believe me, Erik is worthy of your trust, he will care for you as well as I did, if not better._

_Please, go with him. I want you to be happy my dear, my little angel._

_Always remember you mother and know she will be with you as an angel of music._

_Christine de Changy nee Daae_

The tears Lucia had held back since her mother's death days ago poured out silently as she folded the letter back up and sunk to the floor. Erik was by her side in a second, pulling her gently to him, holding her in a way that the Vicomte never had.

"I know dear. I miss her too. And imagine, you have had 17 years with her that I did not get." He pulled Lucia gently to her feet. "Get your things dear, we're leaving, if you wish it."

Her eyes were still blurred with tears but she nodded. Giving Charles one last kiss on the forehead, knowing he wouldn't even remember her in a few years. She moved and stood next to her father and cleared her throat. "I'm ready. I have few things I need here."

Erik nodded. "Of course, although, if you have a cloak I would suggest bringing it. It is...rather cold where we are going."

Lucia grabbed her thick winter cloak on the way out of the front door after saying good-bye to a few of the servants that had been with her since childhood. She walked silently beside her father to a waiting coach-and-four. Her silence continued as they rode and Erik knew that her hesitance to trust was not the only thing she had inherited from him. She needed music to clear her mind, _And music she will have_, he promised.

The coach-and-four pulled to a stop in front of the redone Opera Populaire and Erik helped the still-distraught Lucia down. He led her down the alley to one of the secret entrances to his home. Finally they reached the lake and Lucia's eyes opened in wonder, her tears drying at last.

"Welcome home Lucia, welcome home my daughter."


End file.
